


What the Qun Took From Us

by Torrinidae



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adopted Children, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:59:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torrinidae/pseuds/Torrinidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian never trusted the Qun, as the Qun would never trust a man like him. He could write a list of what the Qun took from him. He could also write you another list of what the Qun is still trying to take from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Qun took my friends,

**Prologue:**

* * *

The travel home from the Storm Coast was quiet. The camp, each night, felt empty and soulless. Instead of the usual banter and campfire stories, Dorian, Iron Bull, and Varric set up their own tents quietly and retreated into them without another word. No one shared drinks or tents, and only Cadash remained by the fire. The Inquisitor looked toward the sets of tents that were not put up. The tents of the rowdy, of the hardy, of the jovial, of the loyal. Now, of the fallen.

Cadash heard some footsteps, but could not raise her head to see who it was. But a second stout body sad down beside Cadash. Scout Harding. She stared at the fire for a while, her eyes glossy. Cadash knew what it meant.  
“I am sorry.”  
“It’s… Okay. There was nothing between us, though I wanted there to be something.”  
“Krem… Krem wanted there to be something too.”

  
Everything felt like a mistake right now. She thought that maybe they could handle it.

She was wrong, everything was wrong.

The Qun took their friends.

The Qun demands a lot.


	2. my relationship,

It had been days since the pack returned to Skyhold, six few then had left a week prior. The Iron Bull had talked with Cadash after she and Gatt solidified the alliance. They put to rest what was left of the men and women of the Chargers. But Bull had not yet talked to anyone in the inner circle. He had seen Varric give him empathetic glances his way; but as for the other person who even knew—Dorian—Bull had not seen him once since they entered the gates. Sure, they spent their days on opposite sides of the keep, but Bull was quite used to their arrangement.

The Iron Bull paused a moment as he set down his now empty mug. He considered his actions before standing up and setting coin on the counter. He should talk to Dorian. At the very least, the qunari should check to make sure the vint was eating.

Bull made his way to the hall. He against received the forgiving look from the dwarf, but upon his arrival to the tower, he felt the glare of Solas baring down on him. Of course, the elf probably had plenty of rude things to say about Bull’s decisions, but Bull decided those were his to make, not the elf’s. The Qunari carefully made his way up the stairs to the alcove his partner sat at. Sure enough, the man was there.

“Hey Dorian? How are you ho-“

“Don’t you ‘hey Dorian,’ me, qunari.”  
  
Bull stopped and crossed his arms. While Dorian was buried in his book, the face he wore was not made for studying or reading. Dorian looked up before standing up to address The Iron Bull fully. “What’s going on, Dorian?” He asked with cynicism heavy on his tongue.

“Who are you?” Dorian locked his eyes on the man before him as he stood defensively.

“I am The Iron Bull, did you hit your head on a bookshelf?” The Ben-Hassrath tried to steer the conversation.

“I don’t believe that. You are Hissrad.”

“You are also correct. What are you going on about?”

Dorian fumed. He looks angry, upset, and in pain. He felt like his blood was on fire, as it had been for several days. “You aren’t The Iron Bull. You certainly aren’t The Iron Bull that I know. The Iron Bull I know had a family, a group of ragtag friends who cared about one another. The Bull’s Chargers were loyal, and you, Hissrad, abused their loyalty. They would have followed The Iron Bull to the grave, and sure enough they did.”

The qunari grit his teeth. “This isn’t your battle to fight,”

“Not my battle to fight? NOT MY BATTLE TO FIGHT?” Dorian’s voice rose as he stepped back, his fits white, “those were my friends you sentenced to death! All for what, Your Qun?” Dorian drew himself back in, though his frustration still present. “What does that mean for me? You destroyed the family The Iron Bull had. How long till you plan to kill off the other vint? When should I see the knife in my back? Tonight? How about next week at two you can sew my mouth shut and send me to Par Vollen?”

“Dorian-“

“I can’t trust you, certainly Krem shouldn’t have. I’m one of the enemies of the Qun, a Tevinter Mage, surely you agree, Hissrad?”

The qunari looked at the man before him. He saw the hurt in the man’s eyes. The Iron Bull realized there was no fixing that hurt. He couldn’t fix the hurt either of them were feeling. “It was fun while It lasted, I guess” With that, the qunari headed for the stairs.

* * *

 

“The words, burning like dragon’s fire through my head and soul. ‘my friends,’ ‘their loyalty,’ but the Qun demands it, so it should be okay, but it still feels wrong.”

He sighed as he turned his head toward the spirit beside him. “There’s no fixing the hurt here kid, just let it simmer down.”

“But I want to help.”

“Reeducation will help after we take down Corypheus.”

“But you know that hurts just as much. In some cases, it only helps by replacing the hurt with more hurt.”

The Bull paused. “Well, let me live with the hurt then. It’s okay, I’ve had worse.”

“Bu-“

“No.”

* * *

 

“Seething and bubbling, the pain of loss has been so much more as of late. It’s war, but it shouldn’t be this many people.”

Dorian jolted out of his seat in the garden, his book falling to the ground. “Maker! Cole, do you mind?”

“Your hurt keeps growing every day. Every day you miss Krem a little more. You miss Dalish even more, practicing magic with each other, and Stitches, drinking and talking potions. And even more you miss the comfort of the Iron Bull. You say he’s dead, but he’s still alive. It makes you hurt more, this lie” Dorian sighs. “You love him, but you’re angry, just like your father.” Dorian rubbed the bridge of his nose between two fingers as he picked up his book.

“Cole, please stop. It’s not the same. Love is complicated… and it often involves hurt. And this isn’t a conversation I want to have.” He tried to catch himself from sniffling but it was happening regardless.

“I’m sorry! I made the hurt more apparent, I only meant to help untangle it.”

“Please, don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> _The Qun took my friends,_  
>  my relationship,  
> 


	3. my peace,

Dorian was standing by the entrance of the garden, running a hand through his hair, trying to pretend the grey hairs on his side burns did not exist—he was only 37. He heard a padding of feet on cobble as he had his eyes gazing toward the midmorning sky. He looked down only to discover the horror that was the boy in front of him.

“Daddy! I found a frog, can I keep it please?” Brunet boy trotted up to Dorian, his hair freshly groomed, but his clothes covered in mud, hands caked in dirt, and a frog squished between the grubby little pads.

“Cremisus Aemilius Pavus, put that down!” Dorian said, biting back swears.

“Awww,” Cremisus groaned as he let the frog slip out from his grip. The frog landing in the grass at Dorian’s feet.

 “We’re going to get you bathed up right this instance, I’m not having you looking like this at the plaza. Where is Felix?” Dorian dared to ask as he grabbed the boy’s hand, wincing at the sliminess.

“Picking up more frogs.” Cremisus said innocently.

“Kaffas!” Dorian let out, immediately biting his tongue as he rushed over toward the direction his mud-ridden child came from.

“DADDY SAID A BAD WORD.”

“Daddy’s is going to be a bad man, too, if you boys don’t clean up this instant!” Dorian said, pulling up a blond headed child out of the mud by the back of his tunic.

* * *

 

Dorian felt much better, even after feeling awful for bothering his elven nanny to help him get the boys cleaned. Now the two boys stood outside of their bedrooms, dressed up appropriately in clean clothes, their hair washed and combed. He smiled at the boys. “All better, now if you boys manage to stay clean for a few hours, maybe Daddy will buy you two some candy, hm?” The two pairs of eyes lit up like stars. The mage chuckled before reaching down and grabbing the blondie, Felix, by the armpits; he pulled him up into the cradle of his arm before offering a hand to Felix’s older brother. Felix was still only 3, so Dorian could manage holding him for a while. Dorian, after all, was a battle mage and was very used to carrying around his own weight for years. Cremisus was only a year older at 4, but he was starting to get heavy.

Dorian was satisfied. He did not expect to find these two boys, but they were the family he had, and the family he had come to love. With the two boys in tow, he headed to the plaza.

* * *

  
Minrathous truly was a bustling city full of all walks of life, even after the death of Corypheus brought about a purging of Venatori from the region. Either the followers of the cult were being expunged or were running away; but many of the cultist magisters remained, standing strong and in power.

Over the years, the magisterium experienced a great divide, bringing a halt to legislations and holding up progress on many fronts. Tevinter was a right mess, simply because a select few monkeys decided its former glory was important enough to sacrifice peace.

Being a member of the magisterium would probably do nothing, but being a magister with connections into both Chantries of old and imperial, an old and wealthy name, and the Inquisition resources and spies means that something can be done.

It had taken a while for Dorian Pavus to get to this point, but he is well satisfied with the result. And his parents, disgruntled at the prospect of no real grandchildren, were at least satisfied with his success upon their passing. Ah well.

Dorian lived in the old family villa with ex-slaves, now employed workers, a hand full of trusted guards, and the two young boys. Dorian barely dressed as a magister, except when a trip to the magisterium was requested. Today he was dressed down into his more practical clothes. He would wear the hood around in public to protect his skin from the sun, but he did well blending into the crowd. He had little to worry about since he had the spies posted around the capital, and he still kept up his battle mage practice. Someone had to teach the boys how to fight, might as well do it himself.

Really his only worry was magisters personally trying to—literally—stab him in the back at the magisterium.  So traveling to the plaza on a day of good weather was safe. He felt comfortable bringing the boys around so they could buy clothes and go to the libraries. They were still not so keen on reading, but at least the ‘awesome’ architecture inspired them to at least look at books. That was a step in the right direction.

‘Today is a wonderful day,’ Dorian thought to himself as he carried Felix against his chest.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Cremisus tugged with his might on Dorian’s hand. “You promised us candy.”

“Maybes make for terrible promises, Krem.” Dorian smiled as he held adamantly onto the boy’s hand.

“But the candy shop is right there,” the boy said, his other finger pointed through the crowd. The boy seemed to have an impeccable sense of direction for a four-year-old. He struggled a bit more before his hand slipped right out of Dorian’s grip.

“Cremisus!” Dorian called after the child as he made a dash toward the candy store. Dorian started to chase after him, but the boy did not get far. The brunet ran headlong into another person. Dorian was able to get close and grab the boy’s arm, not looking up. “I am so sorry for my child,” he let out automatically in Tevene before addressing his son in Common, “Cremisus, apologize to the man, please.”

Dorian did not realize that the stranger in front of him was very large, the only thing he could really see were the dirty boots and the metal running up the side of the left boot. The strange shadow loomed over Dorian before he moved his eyes up. The skin was sickly grey, scars covering nearly every inch of exposed flesh of the man’s chest. He now saw the horns. He now looked into the one eye, piercing. Shocked just as much as he.

Dorian’s mouth went dry.

The men were still for a moment before they heard a voice from below them.

“I-I-I-I’m sorry mister qunari sir. Please don’t eat me,” Krem spoke with a shaking in his voice. He, as well as his brother looked terrified of the figure before them. Without a word, Dorian scooped up the four-year-old and pulled him close to his chest with Felix. They were heavy together, but at the current time Dorian had no concern for his arms.

“Well…” Dorian said stiffly. “Eight years and you still refuse to wear a shirt?”

“Dorian.” The Qunari nodded to Dorian. “You…”

“Leave.” Dorian said, the scowl present under his mustache. He looked at the kossith before him, fully now. He always had scruff on his face, but now the scruff was speckled with white. He now wore a braces on both wrists, but his silhouette was missing a weapon, his axe.

“Really? Seeing a former friend after this many years, you criticize my clothing choices, and then tell me to leave? Leave what, the city? And to where?”

“Well, Hissard, I think you are out of place around an area like this.” Dorian said looking to the eyes passing by. The Qunari stuck out like a sore thumb.

“That’s, not my name.”

“Oh, do you have a new title?” Dorian raised an eyebrow, the small talk making him taste bile on the back of his tongue. His boys were still shivering in his arms, Felix’s face buried in his neck.

“I’m a Tal-Vashoth now.” The man had a defeated look on his face. The silence clung to them for a bit, the boys squirming in Dorian’s grip as the rest of the plaza was still buzzing around them. The Tevinter Magister finally let out a sigh before realizing this man was not going to leave him easily.

Dorian turned and started away, knowing that the Qunari would follow soon. The grey giant stared for several seconds in disbelief. Dorian looked over his shoulder and soon the man was following him. The mage sighed and bounced the boys in his arms lightly.

“It’s okay boys. He won’t hurt you.” He said softly.

“He’s scary,” Felix said, his hand twisting in Dorian’s cloak.

“Hush,” Dorian kept himself from translating his next thoughts into words, ‘he’s dangerous, but I know he can’t be a true monster. Just a liar.’

* * *

At the gate of the Pavus estate, the guards look alarmed, but Dorian waved to them. “He is with me, it will be okay.” They paused and nodded slowly before the Kossith walked through the gate.

Once inside the door, the secretary at the entrance looked up from her book keeping. “Magister Pavus, you’re back so soon?” The elf’s jaw dropped at the sight of the Qunari behind him.

Dorian paid the look no mind as he set the children down in front of the desk and rolled his shoulders. “Madam Liren, please escort Krem and Felix to their nanny. They are to play in their rooms till dinner, we will travel to the plaza again tomorrow. I must apologize for having to interrupt everyone once more today.” Felix latched onto his leg before Dorian pulled him away and kneed down.  “Don’t worry, I will make it up to you two tomorrow, go on.”

Liren looked concerned, but none-the-less, she took the boys up the stairs. Dorian could see the occasional glances of concern from the three before he stood once more and turned around.

“All right, you are in my estate, it means I welcome you as a guest, yet I extend this welcome only due to our previous associations and with heavy conditions. You. Do. Not. Touch. The. Boys.”

“Why would I touch them?” The man crossed his arms as Dorian slowly stepped toward the middle of the foyer.

“I was informed by my agents that the Qun did not approve of my steps to better the Imperium. I received word that they were going to send assassins my way. I did not realize, yet I am not surprised, that they sent you to do that work. If they are going to cut, might as well cut deep, yes?”

“I am not Hissard anymore, I am no longer with the Qun. I am just The Iron Bull now.” The name burned in Dorian’s ears. Pavus sighed and placed his hands behind his back.

“If you wish to continue spinning the web of lies, I cannot stop you. Fine. As you wish, Bull.” The last word felt thick and heavy like tar, to both of them. “You are welcome to stay for a brief amount of time so long as you do not touch my boys or even approach them without my permission. And when you do choose to take my life, at least give me warning. Either so we can fight properly, or so that I may prepare my finances so my children will be well off after my passing. The knife in the middle of the night is inappropriate, especially from you, and I appreciate the sanctity of my dignity,” he added in as he addressed Iron Bull.

“I’m not-” Bull received the harsh glare from the magister and he sighed, “fine, I understand, though you are overreacting,” he grumbled.

“Oh no no, I will play along with the keeper of illusions until he decides it’s time for the evil magister to die. I played along for a good long while before this, might as well do the same now,” Dorian grinned at him; the expression was devoid of joy, it was toothy and with dry snark.

The Bull was silent as he stood at the door, frowning.

“Well no use standing around. May I offer you some refreshments?” He held out a hand in gesture toward the tea room.

 

The Bull did not look comfortable sitting in the couch as he watched the dark-skinned man pouring some still steaming coffee into a cup. Dorian had let him watch the whole brewing process, it clearly would not be the suspicion of drugged drinks that had the kossith frowning. Dorian walked over, his face stiff, putting down the cup in front of Bull. “Well, I suppose as old acquaintances, we are obligated by society to engage in small talk, yes?”

“I thought you didn’t want to marry and have kids.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. I also don’t.” Dorian said, sitting across the coffee table from the Qunari as he picked up the coffee.

“So how did you manage to do it?”

“I’m not married,” Dorian admitted. He realize what the Bull was talking about, so he continued. “I found the boys 2 years ago. They were soporati. Found a two-year-old clutching a swaddled baby, curled up against a building, shivering. I wanted to know where the children’s parents were, the boy just shook his head.” Dorian inclined as he thought back on that night, “I took them here. I wanted them to at least make sure they were healthy and warm, and I soon found out their mother died, the boys both born out of wedlock. At first I was attempting to find someone, perhaps one of the workers of the estate, who would adopt the kids; but then the oldest started calling me his daddy.” Dorian closed his eyes. “At that point, I had to give them names and take them as my own, family heritage be damned.”

“You called… him Krem.” Bull shuttered internally at the name. The name felt sour, burning like acid on his tongue and in his gut.

“Cremisus and Felix. Named after the two most damned-loyal and damned-brave Tevinter men who ever lived.” Dorian said with a scowl, his eyes darting to Bull. Those words dug under the kossith’s skin like the fangs of a snake.

Bull sighed, “Not a day goes by that I don’t mourn the loss of my men.” Once more, only breathing is heard for several minutes, either of them knowing what else to say. Bull licks his lips and leans forward. “I… I have missed you.” A shiver runs up Dorian’s spine, but he suppresses his reaction. “I feel awful, especially now, that the Qun came between us.”

“Oh, it’s still between us.” Dorian had no response when the Bull let a low growl bubble up in his throat from the annoyance. “You ruined me. In multiple ways,” Dorian let out before raising his head toward the ceiling.

“Dorian,” Bull let out, his voice laden with pain. He was having trouble understand Dorian, that much was clear, Dorian was building up a stone wall to hide behind, something the Bull would not be able to jump over. He would not let down his guard. Letting down his guard meant his father could use him as a blood magic experiment; it meant that an ex-lover had more opportunities to steal what left he had in this world and torture him. Dorian knew how the Qun worked. He did not believe the man before him for a second, even when his heart so desired for the words to be true. “I have nowhere to stay,” the Bull finally let out in his hunched over position.

“I have a guest room or two you may choose from.” Dorian said calmly. As far as the mage knew, this man was an enemy, but no sense in letting the guest rooms go unused all the time. It would not matter, if he came for Dorian’s head, where he was laying his own tonight. It only meant the Qunari could be locked in his estate under some semblance of personal watch.

 

* * *

* * *

 

The Iron Bull was escorted by a servant to the guest quarters. “Are you… A slave?” He asked quietly.

“No sir, used to be. Magister Pavus freed us but allowed us to stay as hired help. It’s small pay, but along with food and a roof over our heads, it’s a great living compared to out on the streets.”

“I see.” The Qunari nodded. The servant opened up the double doors to a guest room. The room shown gloriously in the afternoon light streaming through the large window at the end of the room. The window was lined with red drapes, the shining wood floor coated in areas with several thick, elaborate rugs. It was similar to the rest of the estate. Just as fashionable as the owner’s fashion sense.

“There is a bathing area beyond the paper screens, if you would like a bath before dinner, let me know now. The bed is freshly made. I will come for you when dinner is ready.”

“Thank you,” he said toward the woman as she walked away.

He walked through the room and sat himself down on the couch in the middle of the room. It was lined with summer stone and volcanic aurum, the leather of the pillow from halla. He rested a hand on his swollen knee as he sat in silence.

Dorian was just a pretty as Iron Bull remembers from eight years ago; his age was only adding to the handsome features. Even as a magister, he looked nothing like his father, and Dorian was clearly proud of that fact. Bull thought about all the ways the man had changed and had not.

Dorian was still fashionable, decorated from head to toe in gold, yet new piercing dawned his ears as well as one just below his eyebrow. His hair was still more of the same, perhaps less undercut and a bit longer, yet the peppering along his hair line made his style even more refined.

He was beautiful, but Bull knew he had burned that bridge long ago.

Bull reached into the pocket of his leather pants, withdrawing a piece of parchment, slightly crumpled. He unraveled the letter and read it to himself. It read, very clearly in Qunlat:

_“Hissard,_

_The Qun is satisfied with the current political divide in the Imperium. The Arishok is satisfied. However a notable politician is succeeding in rejoining the disjoined magisterium. For the Qun, capture the magister Pavus. Extract information from the magister. Then kill him. Blood magic is of no use to the Qun._

_For the Qun "_

At first, the Bull imagined that he would be torturing and killing Dorian’s father, which he had no qualms about. The rage he had for the man when he discovered what that ‘father’ had tried to do to his own son was more than he had for any Tal-Vashoth. However, he soon discovered that the letter was referring to the new magister Pavus. This magister Pavus.

The Iron Bull could not do it. The Qun demands it, but he can not. The vint had thrown insults at him, pulled away from him, and regretted him, but the vint was still a member of the Inquisition. He was still the qunari’s teammate. Now to have learned that the man was taking care of two kids, successors of good men, only further solidified the Bull’s previous decision. He had already sent that letter off. He had already written in his own hand to his squad that he was deflecting from the Qun. He was giving up his name as Hissard, his position, his faith. The kossith leaned back on the couch and sighed. He had spent at least a decade feeling this way, feeling not quite faithful. He considered reeducation but Cole’s words kept interfering with the idea. _“It only helps by replacing the hurt with more hurt.”_

Bull never went to reeducation a second time, he only kept surviving the Qun as a spy, as a liar. Both as a liar to the outer world, and to himself. Now he was faced with the decision to torture and kill a man he appreciated and respected or give up the lies.

It was only a matter of time before the Qun sent a new assassin to kill Pavus, one who would not go easy on him. But now, Bull would be there to protect Dorian. ‘Of course he would not trust me,’ he thought to himself as he slowly undid the brace on his knee. Dorian was too smart to open his arms to someone who betrayed him, even if Bull never betrayed the vint directly. But that did not matter, Bull would stay here or around, intercepting whatever force the Qun brought. Perhaps at some point Dorian would understand that the words he spoke today were true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Qun took my friends,_  
>  _my relationship,_  
>  _my peace,_  
> 


End file.
